


Dealbreaker (if you think on it)

by Evandar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Community: hp_crossgenfest, Cross-Generation Relationship, Daddy Kink, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rimming, Spanking, Under-negotiated Kink, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-21 18:44:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15564108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evandar/pseuds/Evandar
Summary: Harry had never actually intended to let this kink slip so, of course, it happens right in the middle of sex.





	Dealbreaker (if you think on it)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to the lovely gracerene for running this fest again. It’s my absolute favourite. Thanks also to heyitsamorette for the wonderful prompt, and to S and R for their beta work. Any remaining errors are my own.

He’s close. So, so close when it happens. He’s got Sirius between his thighs, fucking into him at the perfect angle. He’s crying out and panting and thanking Merlin for the silencing charms that let Sirius fuck him without any interruptions from the Order, and his mouth has to fucking ruin it.

"Ah! Ah – yes. Yes, Daddy, please!"

He gasps when he says it. Cold panic floods through him in an instant; this is not a kink he particularly wanted to reveal. Sirius is still inside of him; there’s no way that he didn’t hear. His eyes snap open just in time to meet Sirius’ gaze as his godfather comes, hard. He watches as Sirius’ mouth falls open in pleasure. He’s breathing heavily, panting Harry’s name as he floods him. But Harry can see the guilt already creeping into Sirius’ eyes. 

Harry’s still hard; still aching. He’s desperate and terrified that Sirius is just going to pull away and tell him that this is all a mistake; that they shouldn’t be doing this. That calling him ‘Daddy’ is too far, and that Harry’s sick in the head for thinking it’s okay even if Sirius’ reaction implies that he liked it. He can’t take the words back. There’s no spell in the world that can put them back in his mouth, and Sirius won’t forget them without an Obliviate – something Harry knows without a doubt that he won’t do. _Can’t_ do.

His only option, really, is to go with it. To act like it was intentional and that there’s nothing wrong even though – despite his arousal – his insides are turning to ice.

He doesn’t want to lose this. There are days he doesn’t think he’ll be able to survive is he loses Sirius and this wonderful, terrible, screwed up thing they have between them.

So, when Sirius pulls out of him, Harry whines in protest. It’s not even entirely acting: he can feel the wet spill of his godfather’s come as it slides out along with him, and despite the growing sense of embarrassment, he keeps his legs open; lifts his hips and arches his back. He’s over-sensitive from the sudden loss of stimulation and his frustrated climax. He can feel his arse fluttering and clenching; can feel Sirius’s come still seeping out. There’s so _much_ of it. _Fuck_. He lets his eyelashes flutter as he keeps his legs hooked around Sirius’ hips, keeping his godfather from pulling back further.

He has to say it again. He swallows nervously, licks his lips. "Please, Daddy," he whispers, and he feels his cock twitch against his belly. 

"Harry." Sirius sounds…God, Harry doesn’t even know. Shattered and broken, somehow. Confused in a way that Harry hasn’t heard before. At least, not while they’ve been in bed. Weirdly, the sex is probably the simplest part of their relationship. Or, at least, it has been up until Harry opened his stupid mouth.

"Harry, what -?"

Harry twists, thrusting his hips up against the empty air, urging Sirius to touch him again. To keep going. He knows that it’s probably wrong of him to want to push forward now instead of giving Sirius space to think – that this whole thing, really, is wrong of both of them – but he also knows that no-one in the world thinks worse of Sirius than Sirius does himself. To give Sirius time to back off would be to give Sirius time to turn himself into a monster in his own mind, and Harry would rather be guilty of being an arsehole on this one occasion than allow that to happen.

(If Sirius rejects him after this, he’ll never forgive himself and he knows it.)

"Please," he whispers.

There’s a long moment before Sirius gives in. A long, awful moment where his emotions play out on his face as he battles himself before his expression finally – finally softens. He lifts a hand to Harry’s hip and rubs a soothing thumb over the jut of bone. It’s not enough, not nearly enough, but the way Sirius looks at him as he does it makes Harry’s heart skip and his stomach begin to settle.

"Okay, baby boy," Sirius says. He sighs softly, and he shifts so that he’s leaning over Harry on the bed. Harry reaches up to tangle his fingers in Sirius’ hair, tugging lightly, and he feels Sirius’ breath hitch more than he hears it. There’s a ringing in his ears as his cock _pulses_ with every syllable. Sirius isn’t hard anymore, not entirely; his cock is a hot, wet line against Harry’s thigh as he presses Harry down into the mattress and kisses him, deep and filthy.

"You’ve been so good, baby," Sirius whispers. "So patient. Do you want to come, baby?"

Harry can only whimper in response, nodding his head and pushing his hips up as far as he can, trying to thrust against Sirius’ belly. It doesn’t work: Sirius moves away before he can get any worthwhile friction. 

His breath comes out like a sob as Sirius pulls back entirely. The hand on his hip tightens, and Harry chokes on air, trying to get his mouth to work. "Please! Please please _please!_ " He can beg still, apparently, and it’s enough – just enough – to work.

Sirius flips him; drags his hips back so that he’s balanced on his knees with his face in the pillow and his arse in the air. He rubs his hands roughly over Harry’s cheeks before he pulls them open. Harry hears his breath catch, and he knows exactly what Sirius is looking at. He can still feel it: Sirius’ come all thick and wet and smearing out over his used hole. Sirius rubs a finger through the mess, and it’s probably just as well that Harry’s face-down on the bed because he can _feel_ himself turning scarlet.

"You’re so beautiful, baby," Sirius whispers. "Want to just eat you all up."

Harry moans loudly, lifting his head so that the sound isn’t muffled. Sirius doesn’t like him silenced in any way; he likes to hear the noises Harry makes; likes the sound of his whimpers and his pleas for _more_ and _harder_. His moan turns to a yelp when Sirius draws one of his hands back and smacks him. Harry turns to look at him over his shoulder only to shudder at the intense look in Sirius’ eyes as he raises his hand again. The second smack stings, but he’s not given time to recover as Sirius lands swat after swat on his upturned arse. He finds himself begging, pleading again; babbling that he’ll be "your good boy, Daddy, I promise". He can hear Sirius’ breathing turning ragged. The last swat lands, and Harry whines as he’s palmed open again. He’s so tender, so exposed. He knows that he’s crying, but he doesn’t even care. He can feel Sirius’ breath fanning over his tingling flesh, and he knows exactly what’s coming before the first swipe of tongue over his arse. He clenches his fingers in the sheets, squeezing his eyes shut as he presses back into the sensation. Sirius groans against him, pressing in deeper, sliding his tongue into Harry’s body to chase the taste of himself. 

Harry loses himself in the it: in the scrape of stubble against his arse and inner thighs; the press of tongue; the wet, slopping noises as Sirius eats him open. His body trembles, muscles tight as he strains back. There are tears sliding down his cheeks, dripping onto the pillow; his cock, still untouched, is leaking steadily onto the sheets beneath him, but every time he opens his mouth to beg Sirius to touch him – to let him come – all that comes out is a litany of "please Daddy, yes, so good Daddy, yes yes yes" that he couldn’t stop if he tried.

Sirius pulls back enough to press his mouth to Harry’s left cheek and press a bite into the firm flesh, bruising-hard. Harry whimpers as he breathes hot and wet over his tender rim before crying out as Sirius presses three of his fingers in deep.

"You’re so loose, baby," Sirius murmurs, barely audible over the sound of Harry’s own cries. "So open and all wet for me." He presses a kiss to where his fingers vanish into Harry’s body, and Harry bites at the pillow to stop himself from screaming.

There’s a reprimanding scrape of teeth, and Harry chokes on his next breath, pleasure tightening his belly and crackling up his spine. 

"None of that, baby," Sirius tells him, twisting his fingers and dragging blunt nails over Harry’s sensitive walls. "Want to hear you. Want to hear you beg for your Daddy, baby boy." He pushes a fourth finger in and presses, spreads his fingers as wide as he can. He presses a kiss to the bite mark, and Harry can feel him grinning. He fucks himself on Sirius’ fingers, breathing heavily through his nose as he adjusts to the stretch. It feels so good – too good. There are little electric shivers darting through his limbs and he’s not sure how long he can keep himself up like this. He doesn’t care, either. He just wants Sirius. He wants him so badly that he can’t handle it.

"Think you can come from this, baby? Just on my fingers like a good boy?"

Harry nods frantically. He can do it; he can feel it. His cock is hot and heavy between his thighs and every time he pushes back onto Sirius’ hand, it slaps against his belly with a wet noise, sparking pleasure through his body. 

"Want to hear you, baby," Sirius tells him again. "Want you to tell me if you can do it."

"Y-ah!" Harry’s cut off by the brush of one of Sirius’ fingers over his prostate. He _quivers_. "Yes –"

"Yes, what?"

"Daddy!" 

It comes out as more of a scream than anything else as Sirius teases his thumb against the edge of Harry’s hole, slipping the tip of the digit inside just far enough to tip Harry over. There’s a moment where the world turns white; where Harry’s sure he stops breathing even though he can still hear himself crying out as Sirius milks him dry. He comes long and hard, and it’s not until he’s held securely in Sirius’ arms afterwards, safely out of the wet spot with his head pillowed on his godfather’s chest, that he realises that he might actually have blacked out for a bit.

His throat aches from the screaming and the crying. His arse still burns from the stretch. He feels sweaty and disgusting and as weak as a kitten even as he lifts his head up to find Sirius watching him.

"Enjoy that, did you?" Sirius asks.

Harry nods, suddenly shy. He can remember thinking that he’d rather Sirius thought he was an arsehole for getting him to continue than letting go and feel guilty about it, and he supposes that this is the moment where he finds out if he was telling himself the truth or not.

Sirius looks at him for a long time, utterly unreadable, before he snorts softly and shakes his head. "Me too, baby boy."

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of the 2018 Harry Potter Cross Gen Fest. The author will be revealed on August 31.


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